


Of Sandwiches And Jellyfish

by missbeizy



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then the glass slips, and dies a smashy death.  Dom now owes Peter Jackson money.  Dom reckons he owes Peter his soul or firstborn or something for matching Billy and himself up as Pippin and Merry, as well, though, so who's counting?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sandwiches And Jellyfish

All things being equal, a hallway is not the most romantic setting in the world.  But then again, there's not much cinematically breathtaking about Dom slobbering all over Billy's mouth with a sandwich in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other.  Sort of stupid, truth be told, and a waste of a decent sandwich; it hits the floor seven seconds into the kiss, along with half the contents of the fluted glass in Dom's other hand.  
   
Dom tastes like cheese.  
   
Then the glass slips, and dies a smashy death.  Dom now owes Peter Jackson money.  Dom reckons he owes Peter his soul or firstborn or something for matching Billy and himself up as Pippin and Merry, as well, though, so who's counting?  
   
It's funny.  Dom's thought of kissing Billy quite a lot in the past few months, but now that Billy's mouth is pulling steadily at his own he can't quite enjoy it.  His brain is too caught up in the reality, which is a shame, because he sort of loves Billy desperately, and would've liked to've been able to say that their first kiss was amazing and had cued a chorus of angels playing violins from which flower petals rained.  
   
Really, though, was that _swiss_ on that sandwich?  Between kisses, Dom tongues the back of his teeth.  Fontina, perhaps.  
   
He entertains the thought of asking Billy's opinion and then realizes that Billy's teeth are still around his bottom lip.  Awkward conversation, that would be.  
   
"You are somewhere else," Billy says, pulling away.  
   
Dom means to say, _don't be silly, I have wanted this for weeks_.  What comes out is, "I taste of cheese."  
   
Billy deflates, and then looks thoughtful. "Right.  This is weird.  Are we, eh, in agreement or I am just…?"  
   
 _Oh, thank God._ "No, I, uh.  Yes.  Bit weird." He means to shut up, but his lips keep moving. "I reckon it's because one second we were just, you know, mates, and the next we were, er, not, and with tongues."  
   
Billy's ears goes red and Dom feels glass crunch beneath his shoe.  
   
This is crap.  
   
 

*

 

Sean Astin stares at Billy as if he's just sprouted a third arm. "Uh," he says, in his best attempting-to-come-up-with-a-lengthy-and-intelligent-response voice. "So you and Dom. And then it was 'weird'? And there was cheese."

"Swiss, possibly. Can you imagine?" Billy thumps his head on Sean's shiny kitchen table. He is rumpled and very, very sloshed, and his brain has not yet caught up with the fact that he _just told Astin that he and Dom fancy each other_. "What do I do, man? You've done this. You've been to the mountaintop and planted your, ehm, ha ha, flag, oh, God, all sorts of images I truly did not want to give myself—"

Sean turns purple. "Offa my images. And. Well. I haven't. I mean not with a—not with a Dom."

Billy squints. "That's right not with a Dom. Dom is not for the, er, planting. Dom is—I mean you've got through the awkward part, the. The cheese part?"

"Dunno, Bill," Sean admits, shrugging. "It was pretty much fireworks from kiss one with Chris and I."

Of course it was. Billy groans, and gropes for the bottle between them. "I fail. I fail at planting and, and, Dom. Just. _Fail_. I was kissing him and he was probably thinking about global warming or where he left his mobile last or—it was awful, Sean, just. The worst."

"I'm sure it wasn't the kissing, though," Sean says encouragingly. "It was just the weirdness factor, you know. Have you tried again? There are books you can buy—"

"Oh, God, shut up. Do not suggest books or websites or name the leading researchers of mankissology or I may have to vomit up your lovely whiskey all over your lovely table."

Sean smirks. "My advice? Try and try again. You can't give up until you've at least given it a second chance."

Billy sucks at the last few drops of precious, precious alcohol like a newborn at its mother's bosom. "This is. Yes. You're right. I have to—something. Good man, Astin. Good man."

He's snoring into his arms half a minute later.

*

It's a truly bad idea to continue on with Orlando when he's cackled, dragged you off to a gay bar, and announced as you walked through the door, "Mate, I can totally fucking show you how to do that, seriously."

Never, ever follow Orlando when he claims that he can teach you to do something. Especially if it involves gay bars.

Dom fully intends to stab himself in the jugular with his car keys, but Orlando is already tugging him up to the bartender by the time he has found the sharpest key available.

"I am not doing this," he says. "That drink is fluorescent pink and you look like a crazy person and—are your trousers made of _pleather_? Oh, God, they are."

Orlando grins wildly. "Ian brought me round last week end. Brilliant, innit?"

"You are a fraud. You are not gay and—and Ian just brought you here to embarrass some humility into you, you bastard, you are. Oh, God." Dom looks around. "I'm leaving. This is ridiculous. I am not going to snog some random bloke."

" _Dudes_!" someone shouts.

Dom blinks, turns, and Elijah, wearing one of Orlando's worst shirts, comes barreling into Dom's side. He clings, as if completely frightened and excited at the same time, sort of like a small, blue-eyed rodent with loads of stupid hair, and peeks over Dom's shoulder at Orlando.

"This is so fucked up, man," Elijah says, grinning ear to ear. "You are awesome."

Dom glares at Orlando—a glare that could melt pleather—and then downs his drink in one long swallow. 

It's going to be a long night.

*

"We have terrible friends. Terrible. They are the worst possible mates and we should have them all tossed into the ocean and they should be eaten by jellyfish because. Because it would be squishy and full of unpleasant shocks and slow, most likely, and it would hurt, though I am sure it would not be any better for the poor jellyfish and their digestive systems. Still. We should do that."

Billy squints at Dom over a book and a bowl of porridge. 

"I snogged Orlando last night. It was horrifying. I believe that our DNA fused. And then Elijah and Orlando fucked off with these blokes from, ehm, Finland, or something, they were very, you know, Finnish, and rather gay I suppose, and I ended up in a cab alone, well, just me and Orlando's _cells_ , if you can imagine, which were multiplying all over my mouthparts while engaging in a joyous mating dance of some sort." Dom throws a spare hobbit ear right into Billy's breakfast, cringing. "And so: jellyfish, Bill. _Jellyfish_."

A simple tilt of Billy's brow says it all: you, my friend, have cracked beyond repair.

*

And then they get split up to film apart, and Dom learns that there are much worse things than cheesy kisses and gay bars and murdering his friends with jellyfish.

He is quite literally half a hobbit without Billy to muck about with. 

The fragile curiosity comes back to fill that void and Dom comes to wish that they'd tried the kissing thing again and more. He thinks now of what would've happened had the kissing gone off smashingly well and they'd—well. It's odd. 

He's never fancied another bloke before so it only makes sense that the first time wouldn't be right, exactly. In the beginning when he'd pictured them naked and moving and doing things that he'd always done with women, he would've laughed. Now he just sort of battles with the squirmy stomach feeling and thinks a lot.

He supposes that he's come to take Billy for granted, even in this short time. Now he regrets not taking action and he wants Billy back next to him so badly that his teeth hurt. 

_I am a stupid, sorry bastard_ , thinks Dom.

*

"Shut it," is the first thing Billy says.

He drags Dom into the next room, closes the door behind them, slams Dom into it and more or less kisses him until he has begun to lose control over key motor functions.

"You're an idiot," Billy declares, putting inches between them, "and I don't even know why I am doing this, because you're probably already reflecting on the history of the dutch oven or something of some kind of thinking, _thing_ , but even though you are an idiot I missed you like a sawed off limb except with less bleeding and more girly pining."

"Even though I've got elf germs?" Dom wibbles.

"I'd forgotten that," Billy admits, sighing wearily. "Even though you've got elf germs."

"Oi!" Orlando shouts, shoving his way in. "What's all this about my germs?"

"I am kissing Dominic on the mouth, now. Go away," Billy says, and Orlando shuffles off like a deflated puppy. He curls one hand into Dom's back pocket and grins devilishly. "Now, where were we?"

Dom wiggles and wraps his forearms around Billy's neck and they kiss and it's really rather good. 

There are no sandwiches in sight.


End file.
